Brand 9

by Neil Hunter

  He felt Virginia stir. Her head had been resting against his shoulder. Now she raised her head and looked about.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked. ‘Is this Bannock?’

  Brand nodded. ‘Where’s the Marshal’s office?’

  ‘The far side of town,’ she said.

  ‘With our luck it had to be.’

  Virginia surveyed the silent, empty street stretching before them. ‘Do you think they’re here, Jason?’

  ‘I’m damn certain of it.’

  ‘Surely they aren’t going to try anything here in town. I mean Jerome’s plan was for me to have some kind of accident. Get lost in the snow out on the mountain. A natural death. Not have me shot down here in Bannock’

  ‘That was the original idea. But things have changed now. We know what was planned. We’ve seen faces. As long as we’re alive we represent a threat. Cortland’s plans might he fouled up but if he can kill us he might still get away with his life. And if he can do it without being identified he could still salvage his scheme. I figure he’s desperate enough to make a try.’

  Virginia sighed. ‘I’m sure you must regret having got mixed up with me.’

  ‘And given up the chance of such a trip? Look what I’d have missed.’

  ‘Jason Brand, you must be crazy.’

  ‘Yeah? I probably was at the time I signed on.’

  ‘Oh? If you hadn’t been ill maybe you would have said no.’

  He turned in the saddle to look at her.

  ‘Crazy or not, I wouldn’t have turned you down.’

  ‘Comforting thought. Why? Was it my persuasive powers?’

  ‘That was one of the reasons I came along.’

  ‘What was the other?’

  ‘Not the place to discuss that.’

  She gave him a ghost of a smile, one curved eyebrow lifting. He saw she had the modesty to blush slightly.

  Brand surveyed the street for a second time. There was no point in just sitting where they were. A bullet could find them whether they were on the move or motionless. Brand opened his coat and made sure he could get at his Colt quickly. Touching his heels to the horse’s sides he moved it on, letting it choose its own pace.

  Every window, every shadowed doorway posed a threat. Cortland and his partners could be concealed anywhere along the length of the street. Down any alley. On a rooftop. Maybe letting Brand ride by so they could step out and put a bullet in his back.

  Or Virginia’s.

  Her safety worried him more than anything. On his own he could have coped with the minimum of concern. But he had her life in his hands. An unfortunate facet of his returned memory was the knowledge of others who had died because of him. There were too many. He didn’t want it to happen again. Not to Virginia. Not now. Not since ...

  ‘Jason.’

  Virginia’s screamed warning came a second before she pushed him violently to one side. Brand felt something jolt the saddle beneath him. Seconds later the sound of the shot reached his ears. He kicked his feet from the stirrups, letting his body slide from the saddle. As he went down he grabbed at Virginia’s coat, pulling her with him. They hit the ground in a tangle, thick snow cushioning their fall. Brand caught hold of her arm, his other hand snatching the Colt from its holster. Half on his feet he threw a quick glance across the street.

  Saw nothing. He raised his eyes to roof level and saw a dark figure sky-lined against the white background. Light rippled along a rifle barrel. Brand snapped off a hasty shot, knowing he’d not hit anything. But the shot threw off the other’s aim. The return bullet which came seconds later was yards off target too.

  ‘Up,’ Brand yelled. He hauled Virginia to her feet, shoving her toward the closest building, trying to keep himself between her and the gun across the street.

  As they stumbled up the boardwalk more shots rang out. Now there was a second rifle. A window exploded above Brand’s head. Wood splinters blasted out from the frame of the door Brand was trying to open. It was locked. He smashed his shoulder against it. The door creaked but held. Bullets thudded into the wood around him, and Brand thought that it wasn’t going to be long before that son of a bitch on the roof got his range, and that would be it. Cursing wildly he threw his whole weight against the door. Something cracked and the door flew open. Brand stumbled, regained his balance. He reached out and took hold of Virginia’s sleeve. She uttered a stunned cry as he hauled her brutally in through the door, the force of his action throwing her to the floor where she lay in a daze. Stunned, she raised her head. She could feel blood running down one cheek from a cut. She looked around for Brand but he had gone back out through the door in a loping run, moving sharply along the boardwalk, knowing he was doing just what they expected. He didn’t give a damn. He was good and mad, to the point of recklessness, and though he knew he was going against the book, he was also aware of what he was doing. He heard the flat sound of the rifle again. The bullet whacked against the wall just behind him. Brand changed direction, cutting in a deliberate line across the empty street. He caught sight of the man on the roof, standing to get a clear shot. Brand came to a dead stop. He lifted up the big Colt, double-fisted, aiming by pure instinct. He fired in the same instant as the other man. Something caught his left hip, spinning him round, and he went face down in the cold snow, a sick feeling swelling up inside. He twisted round, staring up towards the roof and saw the rifleman fall slowly forward off the edge. The man arced away from the building as he came down, curving almost gracefully. He began to scream. The sound was cut off abruptly as he hit the street, bouncing visibly, then lying still, face down.

  Standing there Brand could feel warm blood coursing down his side. There wasn’t any pain yet, only a strange numbness. He was beginning to feel comfortable, a sensuous warmth spreading over him. He shook his head angrily, reminding himself there were two more of them somewhere. His fingers closed tightly around the wet butt of the Colt and he eased back the hammer. He waited.

  Silence … then he heard the faint tread of boots crossing the crisp, frozen snow. Was it Cortland? Or had that been Cortland up on the roof? He somehow doubted it. Very likely it had been one of the man’s hired guns. The footsteps halted. In the sharp silence Brand heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and he knew he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. He judged the man’s distance, his position, and hoped to God wasn’t wrong.

  And then he moved, curling his body round, thrusting out his gun hand, his eyes seeking his target…

  The man had his back to the sun and all Brand saw was a black shape. He heard the man’s sharp intake of breath an instant before the clap of gunfire. Red flashes flickered from the muzzle of the man’s unseen gun. Gouts of snow exploded around Brand’s body. His own gun was slamming back against his palm, over and over until the hammer dropped with a solid click on spent cartridges. The dark figure seemed to leap away from Brand, twisting violently in a rictus of agony as the force of Brand’s bullets slammed him to the ground where he lay kicking in a final spasm of pain.

  Ignoring his own rising pain Brand pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, desperately trying to reload his gun. His left side was slick with blood. His fingers were thick, clumsy, refusing to respond. He became aware of figures emerging from the doorways along the street. He saw faces, curious, some indignant, others angry, and he searched among them for familiar features. He watched someone go to the man who had fallen from the roof, turn the body over. It was not Cortland. Brand climbed awkwardly to his feet, hugging his bloody side.

  Damned if he wasn’t tired of being shot just lately. How many times had he been hit during the last few days? Too many. He was out of condition. His responses slow.

  He ignored the staring faces. He moved to stand over the second man. He recognized him as one of the men from the station. But not Jerome Cortland.

  ‘Hey, that’s Ben Holland,’ someone in the gathering crowd said.

  ‘Always said that feller would end up with his belly full of lead,’
said another.

  ‘What’s been goin’ on, mister?’ A hard-faced man put his hand on Brand’s shoulder. ‘Just what...’ The man’s tone dropped to a hushed whisper as he caught the full fury of Brand’s savage expression and he took his hand away quickly, stepping back.

  Brand shouldered the man aside. He had caught sight of Virginia coming across the street towards him, her face pale, eyes wide with alarm.

  ‘Jason,’ she called, and began to run.

  Jesus no.

  Brand took a step toward her, feeling his legs weaken.

  ‘Get back inside,’ he yelled. ‘Cortland’s still around somewhere. For God’s sake get off the street …’

  And then the street tilted. Everything went out of focus. He knew he should get Virginia back under cover. Cortland was on his own now, a desperate man. Maybe desperate enough to still try to get at Virginia. He plunged forward, wondering why Virginia seemed to be getting further and further away from him even though she was running in his direction. He was still trying to figure out the reason when the ground rushed up to meet him and the day exploded in a flash of brilliant light and mind-numbing pain … and then nothing.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The town’s doctor had dug the bullet out of Jason Brand’s side three days back. Before that happened Brand had lost a fair amount of blood on Bannock’s main street. He was unconscious for a day. When he finally woke up he felt weak but ravenous, and despite the doctor’s objections he downed a good meal, refusing to have anything to do with the light diet of thin soup prescribed for him.

  ‘You were terribly rude to him,’ Virginia scolded as she returned to Brand’s hotel room after seeing the irate doctor out.

  She closed the door with a bang and came to stand beside the bed, her beautiful face marred by a frown.

  ‘He’ll get over it,’ Brand said. ‘He’s getting paid isn’t he?’

  ‘That isn’t the point, Jason. It’s time you realized you just can’t go through life being so bossy with everybody?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And don’t treat me like a child.’

  Brand studied her for a while. She had got rid of the bulky clothing she’d been wearing. Her hair was brushed and shining, falling to the shoulders of a snug-fitting powder blue dress. Apart from a few tell-tale bruises on her face she was looking incredibly lovely. There was nothing childlike about her at all.

  ‘Where’s the marshal got to?’ he asked, trying to keep his tone pleasant

  ‘Mr. Bailey will be along presently,’ Virginia told him. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at him. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘If you must know I ache all over.’ Brand jabbed a finger at her. ‘And I still need answers.’

  ‘Be patient, you grouch. I’m not surprised you’re sore. The doctor said he was sure you ought to be dead. He’d never seen so many bruises and cuts on a man still walking about. Cracked ribs. Lacerations. A scalp wound. Bullet grazes. I told him you were just too stubborn to lie down and die.’ Virginia’s face softened and she reached out to touch his cheek. ‘But I’m glad that’s the way you are. And I am also glad you took time to have a shave.’

  Brand put his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him. The scent of her perfume reached him.

  ‘Want to help a sick man get better?’ he asked.

  A smile played about the corners of her mouth. ‘How?’ she asked.

  Brand didn’t say anything. He simply drew her down to him, letting his mouth find hers. Virginia responded warmly. His hand slid from her waist to the rounded curve of hip and thigh, fingers teasing the firm flesh through the clinging dress.

  ‘Are you sure this is going to help you get better?’ Virginia murmured.

  ‘I’ll let you know later,’ Brand replied. In fact a pleasing rise of anticipatory warmth was flooding his loins. His free hand explored the firm fullness of her upper body, moving with increasing pressure.

  ‘Jason,’ Virginia sighed, ‘this is … is nice.’

  Any response he might have made was destroyed by the sudden knock at the door. Virginia drew away from him, face flushed, hastily smoothing down her dress and rearranging her hair.

  ‘This is getting to be a habit,’ Brand grumbled sourly.

  Her composure regained Virginia crossed to the door and opened it. The man who stepped inside was tall and solid, his thick hair graying at the temples. He wore a dark suit, drawn tight across his powerful shoulders. A burnished badge was pinned to his dark vest. The well worn gun belt around his waist supported a long barreled Colt with plain wood grips.

  ‘Miss Maitland,’ he acknowledged.

  Virginia smiled. ‘Do you have any news for us, Marshal Bailey?’

  ‘No, ma’ am.’ Bailey glanced across the room to where Brand was watching him. ‘Glad to see you’re looking better, Brand.’

  Brand knew the man from a few years back. Then Bailey had been working in Casper. Brand had visited the town to collect a prisoner for the local US Marshal office.

  ‘I’d feel a lot better if I knew where Cortland was,’ Brand said.

  Bailey grunted softly. ‘No more than I would. That feller has a lot to answer for. But he’s just vanished. That’s the plain of it, Brand. He just ain’t to be found.’

  ‘But where could he be?’ Virginia asked. ‘Jerome Cortland is a city dweller. He doesn’t know a thing about surviving in this kind of country. Especially in this kind of weather.’

  ‘You’d be surprised the things a man can turn his hand to when the need arises,’ Bailey said.

  ‘Maybe he’s made tracks for home,’ Brand suggested. ‘Jumped a train heading east.’

  ‘A possibility,’ Bailey agreed. ‘Schedules are practically back to normal now the storms have blown themselves out.’

  ‘Won’t do him much good if he does go back to New York.’ Brand said. ‘Since Miss Maitland telegraphed her main office they’ve disassociated themselves from his law firm. Closed down his access to any accounts.’

  ‘Every lawman between here and the east coast will be on the lookout for him,’ Bailey affirmed. ‘Bit of luck for us that none of the telegraph lines came down during the storms.’ Bailey paused before asking, ‘What are your plans now, Brand?’

  ‘Finish this business one way or another.’

  Bailey nodded. ‘Yeah, well I’d better get back to mine. I’ll look in again. Keep you posted. But I figure by now this Cortland feller has either froze himself to death somewhere or he’ s taken off. When we checked with New York and they told us he was supposed to be up in Canada on a hunting trip so we followed it through. Seems that was the way he got here. But he ain’t gone back. You ask me - I think he’s running.’

  After the marshal had gone Virginia looked at Brand, her face serious. ‘Do you have the same feeling as I do?’

  ‘About Cortland?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I only know one thing, Virginia,’ Brand said. ‘Cortland hasn’t gone back to New York. He hasn’t run either. He’s still around. And I figure he’s waiting his chance.’

  ‘The sooner we leave the better.’ Virginia returned to sit on the edge of the bed. ‘The doctor said a couple of days at least before—’

  Brand reached for her. ‘The hell with him.’

  ‘Maybe I ought to lock the door this time.’

  Brand smiled. ‘I think maybe you should.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Two days later they took the first available train making the trip from Bannock to Butte. The doctor who had been treating Brand washed his hands over his irritable and ungrateful patient. He had decreed that a train journey was not advisable. Jason Brand decided that was nothing more than medical horseshit and he had said so.

  He knew his own body better than any damn doctor. He was fully aware of what it could stand, and at that moment in time the last thing he required was a prolonged rest. He wanted - needed - activity. There was a longing inside him that demanded to be heeded and it said get th
e hell out of this damned place.

  Now he sat across from Virginia, staring moodily out through the grimy, frosted carriage window, not really seeing the snow covered mountain slopes, the silent, close-ranked pine forests. His mind was absorbed with other things, other places. He was thinking about McCord. Wondering where he might be sent next once the man knew he was alive. Into more danger? More violence? He already knew the answers. It was inevitable. As McCord would say they weren’t in the Hearts and Flowers business. Brand had to accept he had found his true way in life. Working for McCord, with its accompanying dangers, was the saving grace in his life. He could never escape it. Running away was not the answer. Recent events had proved that. He had been treading water, his life on hold for a brief time, until matters conspired to draw him back to what he knew. What he was best at. In truth in trying to walk away he had simply walked back into the life he knew.

  Despite the hardships of his current predicament Brand saw a brightness shining through the dark shadows. The young woman at his side. He glanced in Virginia’s direction. She was definitely one of the brighter moments in his life right now. However things turned out he would not regret meeting Virginia Maitland.

  ‘Are they private?’ Virginia’s voice penetrated his somber mood.

  ‘What?’

  She was smiling across at him. ‘The thoughts,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure I should disturb you.’

  ‘Just thinking ahead,’ Brand told her. He studied her for a moment.

  She figured in his life now and there was no easy way around the fact. He wasn’t sure he wanted a way round. He knew he wanted her in his life and even with everything she had going on for her, she had made it clear she felt the same.

  ‘Hey.’ Virginia leaned forward and prodded him. ‘I’m still here, Jason Brand.’

  ‘Trouble with getting your memory back is having to remember the way things really are. You and me together—it’s just asking for trouble.’

  ‘You explained it all very clearly last night,’ she said. A faint flush of color rose in her cheeks as she recalled the circumstances under which he had done his explaining. ‘I think from now on I’ll conduct all my serious conversations in bed. It adds a certain spice to the occasion. Don’t you think?’